The Improbable & The Impossible
by xxNellxx
Summary: When Kitty Riley comes banging on 221B's door all Sherlock can do is see her out. However Kitty is determined to stand behind one detective at least. Conman detective Dirk Gently is her next best thing, can she convince him to take on Sherlock? Will Dirk match up to Sherlock's ability? Who is the mysterious stalker? AND...Will Macduff and John ever have a conversation? CROSSOVER
1. Chapter 1

**This is a Sherlock/Dirk Gently crossover fic. The only story on here which has Dirk Gently in I think. Enjoy xxx**

**Chapter One**

Baker Street was unusually quiet but for the dull echo of lone footsteps of an inconsequential passer-by and the hum of the occasional hackney as it drove past and turned the corner, its headlights a glow upon the street as it hit the walls and pavements, casting shadows.

Dusk had made its mark on the day and the soft illuminating light from the street lamp shone on the curtain-drawn window of 221B.

The air was cold and miserable, disturbed by a sporadic, blustery wind, the kind of which flew down the neck of your coat and made you quiver. An empty crisp packet tumbled along the street like an ugly leaf.

In the distance you could hear the buzz of the city as it hit night. It was just coming to its peak of life as people hit the streets for their Friday night introduction to the weekend ahead.

Though in 221B it was silent. The lights were off and inside it was cold and lifeless. Nothing stirred or moved, just silence. Outside there was the rattle of keys, the sound of an opening door, a sudden gush of cold air and then silence as the door was gently shut.

A hand on the rail, a creak upon the stairs. Another door opens, and Dr John Watson sighs irritably at his dark and frosty welcome.

"Bloody Sherlock, now where's he off to? He knew I'd be back, could have left the lights on and the heating. Flaming freezing it is in here. And I bet the flats a right state, and we all know who'll have to clean it up." He muttered shaking his head, placing his jacket over the chair and fumbling for the light switch.

*Click!*

John was suddenly aware of Sherlock who was sitting comfortably on the sofa with violin in hand and the union jack pillow cast aside. His icy eyes glared up at John who stayed perfectly still where he stood.

"I'm not going out actually, and I haven't made a mess and in future if you feel so strongly about it, I'll clean up." He snapped putting down the violin and crossing his legs. John just turned and sighed knowing full well that Sherlock would never agree to anything of that nature.

"You know it irritates me." John said rolling his eyes.

"Of course I do, why else would I leave it?"

"It's very late." John said attempting to sift through the collection of un-opened envelopes which had laid on the kitchen table for a worryingly long time, (in Mrs Hudson's opinion) their contents containing matters which John did not like to think about.

The truth was, John just couldn't be bothered with them at that moment and so he flung them back amongst the many 'experiments.'

"Fantastic observation, John." Sherlock commented, John who had his back turned to him simply sighed. "Lots to drink then?" Sherlock smirked.

"A bit." John grunted opening the fridge door hoping to find something which was actually edible and would fit perfectly in between two slices of 'Best of Both.' Much to his dismay there was only one slice of ham left. Well, it was something, at least.

"Out with Stamford?" Questioned Sherlock, although of course, he knew the answer. John, who had started to butter the bread, chuckled.

"Is that a rhetorical question or are you actually that bored?"

"Rhetorical, of course" Sherlock said. "Did you have a good night?"

"Are we done with the twenty questions now Sherlock?" John snapped before taking a bite out of his freshly made sandwich and leaning himself against the kitchen counters.

"We are now." Sherlock muttered staring at the doorway. John noticed the look in Sherlock's eyes and followed his gaze across the room. Sherlock sunk back in his chair and placed his hands together.

"What is it?" John waited. "Sherlock?"

"Listen." Sherlock whispered.

They kept silent for a moment and then John heard it. Knock. Knock. Knock

"We have a client."

"How do you know we have a client?"

"The knocks are rapid, indicating that the purpose is important. Well to them, anyway. And honestly John who else would be knocking at the door at eleven o'clock at night?" Sherlock half smiled at his flatmates expression and his eyes flickered back to the doorway. How could John still be amazed by such small deductions? John hesitated for a moment. Knock. Knock. Knock! The knocks got louder.

"Well go answer it before they wake Mrs Hudson- she'll never forgive you."

"Forgive _me_?" John sighed putting down his plate. "They're your clients."

"And when Mrs Hudson isn't available- it's you who answer the door." Sherlock snapped and John did as he was told.

John muttered to himself as he approached the stairs. He went down to the hallway, unlocked the door and opened it. It was a woman who stood before him, shivering in the cold, her coat fastened tight and her hair damp from the night's rain. Her complexion white and her eyes possessing dark circles beneath them. John bit his lip and edged the door slightly as to ward her off. "What do you want?" He asked coldly breathing heavily. The woman lifted her head gently and gazed slowly up at him. Opening her mouth to speak, she said.

"I know what you're probably thinking Dr Watson but I promise I'm not here to cause any kind of trouble. I just…I just want to talk with you and Mr Holmes." Her words were hurried, John presumed them rehearsed. He guessed she knew what he'd say. He sighed biting his lip again and leant down towards her in the doorway.

"You see, the problem here Miss Riley is that I can't trust you. I just cannot trust you…at all." John spoke sternly indicating his view. Kitty Riley nodded once.

"I understand." She waited. "Please... I really need to talk with you and Mr Holmes." She repeated. John sighed.

"So, Miss Riley, what could we possibly do for you?" Sherlock sneered in his typical belittling manner. He stared at her coldly, watching her every move as she sat herself down by the fire opposite him.

"You're the detective Mr Holmes." She said keeping her voice polite.

"Consulting." Sherlock instantly corrected her.

"You said no trouble, remember?" John warned her. She cast him a look.

"As I recall," Sherlock interrupted. Kitty turned her attention fully back to him. "Our last meeting took place quite some time ago now."

Kitty remembered, having the decency at least, to feel a degree of shame and humiliation, after all it was a memory she had tried exceptionally hard to forget. However now, sat once again, before the famous detective himself, she saw herself standing in her living room anxiously flicking through what she'd believed to have been Richard Brook's acting portfolio, declaring his innocence before watching him fly through her house and being pushed aside by Sherlock Holmes himself. Sherlock who had been watching her closely said.

"Painful is it Kitty?" Kitty snapped her head up at him.

"Mr Holmes." She started. "I have tried to push aside that night but it's those events which are partly why I'm here."

"Couldn't it have waited- it is eleven at night?" He pointed out rudely. John gave him a raised eyebrow. Kitty ignored his question and carried on.

"Mr Holmes…" Kitty held herself together though Sherlock had sensed her discomfort the moment she'd entered the room. Her nervous hands constantly rubbing together, her shaky voice and her darting eyes. "I am, very sorry." She breathed out tugging at her skirt perched on the edge of her seat.

"For what?" Sherlock teased- he wanted desperately to keep her at her un-ease. His remarks were clearly succeeding. Kitty sighed and edged about in her seat again.

"Please don't." She said. "Don't play games with me."

"I love a good game Miss Riley; you of all people should know that." He said sounding sarcastically enthusiastic. John looked from Kitty to Sherlock and then back to Kitty.

"I'm sorry." She eventually snapped.

"I didn't quite hear you." Sherlock growled nastily leaning forward in his chair toward her.

"Alright Sherlock that's enough, you're scaring her now." John spoke out loudly. Sherlock looked over at him, his lip curling through anger.

"Get out Miss Riley. Your problems are not mine to solve."

"What problems?" Kitty spat, hastily staring at him shaking her head. Sitting still for a few seconds in silence, Kitty could feel and hear her heart thump within her chest. The nervous sensation caused her to feel dizzy and she felt herself spiralling into nausea.

"You tell me." Sherlock asked.

"I came here to apologise Mr Holmes. I'm sorry for what happened. I've said it once before but I did give you an opportunity. Even so, what happened with Rich…err… Moriarty was…" She started to stammer realising she couldn't finish because she knew not how to. Sherlock never altered his gaze off her. Her discomfort was somewhat pleasing. Kitty gulped staring at the crackling fire which had started to warm her up from the bitterness of the cold outside. "I didn't know about Moriarty, I was tricked into believing Richard Brook and it was the perfect opportunity for me to finally boost and gain publicity within my journalism. The great Sherlock Holmes discovered to be a fraud…even you, Mr Holmes, have to agree that that certainly is one story determined to gain attention." Kitty stopped. She'd probably said more than what she'd ought to, though she didn't really care and she found that saying it finally, felt really good. A weight was taken off her shoulders at that moment. Keeping it bottled up for that length of time hadn't done her any favours. When Sherlock remained silent she continued. "Then of course, you threw yourself off the top of Saint Bart's and well, that did cause a stir…"

"And plenty of juicy journalism no doubt." Sherlock smiled mockingly. "Did you remember to type the part where Rich, oops I mean Jim, placed a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger moments before?" He added. He watched as her face crumpled- revenge was so sweet.

"Sherlock!" John yelled. "Really, I think you've said enough." Raising his hand as a signal for him to back off.

"Miss Riley you said that your truly pathetic attempt at apologising was partly why you came here. Could you perhaps get on with part two of the Journalist's Speech because I'm actually rather tired?" Sherlock muttered waving his hand about for her to proceed. Kitty shook her head biting her bottom lip.

"When I met you," She began surprisingly confident. "I offered to be on your side. Basically I'm here to-"

"Offer it again." Sherlock finished her sentence with a defiant flourish- Kitty blinked once or twice. "You must have forgotten the part where I said- you repel me and the bit where you, ever the comedian, wittingly said back to me, you repel me. Here's a little tip for the future Kitty. Don't use the same comeback. It's not clever, it's weak and ever so slightly boring." And with that Sherlock sat back in his chair and placed his palms together, beating the tips of his fingers against one another like tiny drums.

John recognised this as Sherlock's thinking position. Kitty stared at him in astonishment, quite taken aback (and rightly so) at his recent comment. The room was silent; John let out a sigh.

"Well. Miss Riley I think that's all for tonight." He told her- she simply nodded. Sherlock was still sat in silence- thinking.

"Well," She said getting up and retrieving her bag. "I have enough for a taxi I'm sure." She reminded herself making a move to the stairs. John watched after her. "Goodnight Dr Watson. Thank you for giving me the chance to say sorry, although I doubt it has changed anything between us." With a hesitant smile she went downstairs.

"Oh Miss Riley." Sherlock called. She stopped to listen. "Remember, your problems are not mine to solve."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Janice was sat at her desk scribbling on loose post it notes, from time to time she'd glance and gape at her watch wishing away the hours. She found that clock watching was somewhat of a tedious task which offered nothing for one's sanity. Why she was still sat there doing nothing but grumbling and grouching she didn't know. If she'd stuck to her guns she'd have resigned months ago, but no, she still sat in that tiny office hurling the nearest cups, mugs and office equipment at her loathed employer. In a peculiar sort of way she belonged there, whether he found her agreeable or not, her employer however, presumed her part of the office and had gotten so used to her mental attitude that he didn't allow his receptionist's destructive actions to nuisance him.

"JANICE!" Dirk Gently yelled throwing a soft bouncy ball at the office window. He was sat, feet up on the desk, a mug of tea in one hand thinking to himself…intently bored. Janice reared up in her seat at the impulsive impact of the ball which had just hit the window before shooting him a look which could only resemble that of scorn. "WILL YOU CHECK THE ANSWER PHONE FOR FRESH CASES?" He continued swiftly turning his head away from her so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. It was always best not to make eye-contact with Janice (if your name was Dirk Gently that is.)

"I WILL WHEN YOU PAY ME MY WAGES!" She shrieked eyes wide, nostrils flaring and hands shaking. Dirk often thought of her as one of those nasty little cats you find down back alleys, hissing at the nearest person. The kind that'd have your hand if you accidentally trod on its tail.

"Oh God." MacDuff heaved a sigh of sheer disapproval as he entered the room ignoring Janice's daggers which he could feel flying across the room at super speed from that one glance which she'd made sure she'd hosted. MacDuff then opened the door to the main office and cautiously shut it behind himself keeping shut of Janice. Janice was left tearing little pieces of paper up and casually tossing them at the door muttering to herself. MacDuff hoped his partner wouldn't detect the time in which he'd decided to roll into work. Not that Dirk would care about such insignificant things at times like these when a lack of cases was the only action taking place at _'Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency._' In all honesty, that was the _only_ action which ever seemed to materialize these days. No cases...never any cases. Dirk gazed up at him from where he sat and took a sip of his tea before flashing a quick grin to show he'd noticed his friend's arrival.

"Afternoon MacDuff." He said, purposely ignoring the rapid thud of Janice's hand on the other side of the glass as she signalled her anger. MacDuff simply stared before raising his arms out and then allowing them to lazily fall back down again to rest against his sides.

"Dirk how long is this seriously going to go on for?" He asked sternly, he always spoke in that tone of voice when he was attempting to get across serious points to his friend. He stood still, his expression like stone. No matter how hard he tried, he was usually overlooked. Dirk lingered in his seat for a few seconds and then waving his hand to one side as if dismissing his friend's in-direct accusation he smiled again (which was most to MacDuff's annoyance). A soft smile to start with, but there was no mistaking that twinkle in his eyes which he possessed; the symbol that revealed he knew exactly what he was doing. And to many of the more gullible clients, the sort who were bad with finances and had particular handwriting traits, that certain little twinkle presented a whole other notion. Dirk straightened himself up where he sat and said persistently.

"Oh come now MacDuff."

"Dirk! When are you going to pay her?" MacDuff said. "We haven't had a case for three weeks now because Janice refuses to answer the phone because you won't pay her!" He folded his arms trying to convey his distress. Dirk just rolled his eyes. "I know things are hard Dirk but, come on now."

"She'll come round." Dirk like usual made his sentence sound longer than what it actually was. "What's that in your hand?" He asked peering closer trying to get a decent look. MacDuff pursed his lips, unfolded his arms and threw it down onto the desk in front of him. Dirk looked down at it and then back up at MacDuff as if it would unexpectedly bite him. When MacDuff stayed silent he picked up what appeared to be the morning's newspaper and unfolded it. The headline read- BOFFIN SHERLOCK HOLMES SOLVES CASE OF MISSING KITTEN- Dirk scoffed and threw it back onto the table un-amused. "Typical." He muttered. "My cat case was ten times; no a hundred times more intellectual and mysterious than that, it involved a murdering pensioner a time machine and bourbon biscuits!" MacDuff rolled his eyes and sighed, _not again_ he thought. "It must have been some case though," Dirk continued with the slightest hint of panic in his voice. He was talking more to himself then MacDuff; he did however, still expect MacDuff to be part of his dispute. "He only does logically interesting cases…" He continued. "He refuses payment the idiot...there must be more to it than a kitten…MacDuff!" He snapped when he saw that MacDuff was no longer paying him his attention. He was right of course, Sherlock Holmes would never agree to such a case if there wasn't anything supplementary interesting and deliciously complicated involved, however Dirk couldn't be bothered to bring himself to read the remainder of the article.

"No Dirk." MacDuff stopped him and raising his hand he carried on. "Forget Sherlock Holmes and turn to page sixteen." The tone of his voice told Dirk that something wasn't quite right. MacDuff kept his eyes fixed to the floor. Was he attempting to save Dirk's embarrassment? Whatever it was, it caused Dirk to slowly take the paper with his left hand and drag it closer towards himself. As he did so he looked up at MacDuff and back then to the paper. He opened it up, flicking through the black and white inky pages until eventually he looked upon page sixteen. His eyes flickered down at the headline. 'CONMAN DETECTIVE SOLVES NEW CASE'

"What's wrong with that…apart from the fact that I solved it weeks ago?" He asked his friend innocently. He knew what was wrong with it, but he chose not to take it too personally. MacDuff went to speak before stopping himself and grumbling something under his breath.

"What's wrong with it? You are joking Dirk?" He finally said when he'd found the appropriate words. "Yet again you have managed to land yourself the headlining title of 'conman!'" MacDuff shouted. Dirk shrugged.

"I don't see it as a problem."

"Well I do! My names in here as well you know, they'll be attacking me next!" MacDuff shook his head and paced up and down the room, he laughed to disguise his rage. Dirk as ever kept quiet. It was times like this when staying quiet was in fact his only option. "How do you expect us to get cases with publicity as bad as that? You're the conman detective!" He chuckled out-stretching his arms as if to embrace his friend. Dirk raised both eyebrows and pulled a face, the same face he always pulled when he got on the wrong side of MacDuff. "I'm not happy Dirk, not happy at all."

"It's not that bad MacDuff, look it's about how _I_ solved the case." He selected his words carefully, briskly turned back to page sixteen and lifted up the paper presenting its contents to MacDuff. "It's about the good stuff." Dirk attempted to reason removing his legs from the top of the table and sitting in his chair properly. This was another failed attempt at trying to gain MacDuff's respect.

"Except the fact you're being recognised as a conman Dirk." MacDuff waited. Nothing. "Right, that's it I'm going home. Don't bother ringing me today because I won't be- A answering or B coming back to this pig sty!" MacDuff bellowed and left the room, slamming the door as he went. Dirk raised his eyes and leant back in his chair, his legs instantly put back upon the table.

"You're as bad as her in there!" Dirk called after him.

"HE FINALLY CAME TO HIS SENSES DID HE?" Janice yelled from her office sniggering.

"OH SHUT UP!" Dirk snapped back. Folding his arms he got himself comfy again. "At least they don't call me boffin..."

…

It'd been half an hour. MacDuff still hadn't come back. Dirk hadn't expected him to of course, but still. Dirk was feeling somewhat irritable, his recent quarrel with his assistant (as he liked to put it) had left a foul attendance in the atmosphere and he hadn't moved from his seat since. He could just go back to his flat; it wasn't as though he was going to get a client any time soon. _Nah, _he thought, _I'll just sit here and wait for MacDuff. _An empty mug of tea was perched on the desk next to him, he looked longingly at it- he really fancied another one. No chance of that happening, Janice would never commit to such a task…or anything which concerned that of showing kindness to Dirk Gently.

Dirk was still sat there gawking at the window when he heard a woman's voice. His ears pricked up and his head snapped towards the office window. The curls in his hair bounced lightly and he raised his head trying to get a clearer view. (If Dirk Gently was one thing, he was most definitely nosey.) It wasn't Janice who was doing the talking, no, it was another woman who possessed strikingly beautiful red hair (from what he could see) and was dressed rather smartly, but not the sort of smart which resembled a typical office worker. What did she want? A client perhaps? He listened in as best he could. There was a lot of smiling and a lot a girly giggling. Trust Janice to be _oh so nicey nice_ with the clients. Dirk continued to watch them; straightening his back he fixed his eyes on the red head. As he watched she carefully flicked a glance towards him, Dirk jerked back down sinking into his seat. All of a sudden he felt exceedingly insecure, as though they were both casting some sort of spell on him. It was a situation in which he rather wished MacDuff was present. It was then that the door opened and the red head walked in. She remained in the doorway for an instant. Dirk swiftly removed his legs from on top of the desk and cleared his throat, his hands naturally stroking his tie. The woman watched him perceptively; she watched his hurried hands move from his tie to the desk, hastily pushing aside dried out pens and pencils which looked as though they needed to see a sharpener. As silently as she could manage she took a small step closer, the heel of her shoes against the floor was the only sound in which could be heard.

"Mr Gently." She offered her hand with a warm smile taking full action and walking towards the desk. Dirk shook it and smiled back. "I'm Kitty, Kitty Riley." Kitty glanced down at their hands; already she knew he wasn't going to trust her. She let go.

"Well Miss Riley what can I do for you?" He questioned leaning back in his chair. Kitty stood above him almost and sighed. "Would you like a seat?" Dirk added just as she opened her mouth to speak. Kitty nodded once and thanked him. She waited. "Oh." Dirk said casually. "There's a chair over there, it's MacDuff's but he won't be needing it anytime soon." Pointing towards the battered moth eaten wreck of a chair Dirk forced a grin; Kitty returned it and then spun around following his eyes. Taking the hint she fetched it herself and drew it up towards the desk.

"Mr Gently I'm a journalist." She was most blunt.

"I know." He replied. This caused the left corner of her mouth to twitch slightly.

"You do?"

"How could I not Miss Riley?" Dirk gave a long hard stare; she shuffled in her chair and bit her lip taking a deep breath. "You're the one who published the famous Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty case." Once again he leant back in his seat. This was going to be a waste of time, what would she possibly want with him? Kitty sighed.

"Look Mr Gently that's in the past now. What happened between Jim Moriarty and I was a mistake. I'm not going to pretend. I'm not proud of it- but what I will say is that I was just as much a victim of Moriarty as Sherlock Holmes was." Kitty closed her eyes for a second; Dirk didn't quite no what to do so he just looked over at the window before drumming his fingers lightly on the desk. He made a swift glance back; nope she was still sat with her eyes locked shut. He sighed and returned his interest back to the window.

"Tea Miss Riley." Janice peered her head through the door and wandered in, a cup in hand. Dirk cracked his head up and out-stretched his hands to take the tea.

"Oh, thank you." Kitty said taking her tea. Dirk scowled as Janice left him feeling neglected without a cup of tea. As Kitty sipped her piping hot tea Dirk decided to get straight to the point.

"Are you here as a client or what?" He posed rather rudely. Kitty stopped drinking her tea and slowly but gently, placed it on the desk.

""I get to hear all the gossip about you where I work." She said cracking what wasn't quite a smile, Dirk considered it more of a masqueraded sneer.

"I bet you do." He cocked his head to the side.

"Conning old ladies out of fridges…you're unbelievable."

"I know. Great isn't it."

"It's impressive."

"Really?" Grinning, he shrugged, feeling particularly pleased with himself.

"It's impressive that a detective can get caught swindling people out of money." Her surprisingly keen tone was drowned out within a split second as she cut to the point and gave her true sensitivity towards the accusation. Dirk's smile dropped and the way he felt now resembled that of a deflated balloon. She was slowly but shortly starting to remind him DI Gilks (that could never be a good thing…if your names Dirk Gently that is.)

"Right." He nodded once. Kitty shifted in her seat taking hold of her tea again. Her small hands cradled it for a while before she took another sip.

"However it makes good publicity Mr Gently." She continued raising her voice to some extent.

"It does?" Dirk raised a brow.

"For me, not for you." She hesitated allowing him time to sigh. "You see, stories like that really help to get my name out there- _'Conman Detective Strikes Again by Kitty Riley.'_ You have to admit Mr Gently; it has a rather catchy feel to it…just like _Suicide of Fake Genius_." At that Dirk sunk into his seat and groaned.

"Look, if this is about that lanky scarf wearing ponce then you're wasting your time and money. You don't look like the kind of girl who drives…taxi?" He eyed her, making sure she definitely wasn't the sort who were likely to drive. Kitty chose to ignore his idiocy and continued to play her game.

"Remember that headline?" She asked dismissing his recent query.

"How could I forget, it should have said- fake suicide of a genius."

"True. But that doesn't have the same feel to it… and as I recall at the time he was believed quite fake and… quite dead."

"True. But everyone knows he's not really all that he's made out to be." Dirk was sure to make sure she understood that. Kitty chuckled and turned her head away faintly.

"Mr Gently you can claim your ignorant judgment of Mr Holmes but I can assure you he is quite the genius, a far better detective then you'll ever be. Or should I say were?"

"I am _still_ a detective!" Dirk snapped with sheer insult. He leaned forward sharply, Kitty stayed exactly where she was, refusing to feel intimidated by him.

"Really? What's the case then?" She shot. There was hesitation as Dirk's eyes flickered from left to right, careful not to look her in the eye.

"Well-"

Kitty cut him off. "Because Mr Gently if I was to express my opinion, I'd say that there's not much going on here."

"Now who's the Sherlock Holmes?"

"So I'm a genius then?" Kitty grinned; she'd evidently won her diminutive game.

"No." Dirk was very sharp to point that out.

"Shame." She rolled her eyes acting the look of defeat for her own amusement.

"Shame indeed." He said.

"Because I can help you" This time Kitty spoke words which sounded truthfully sincere. Dirk felt baffled. Taking into account all that had just occurred her tried not to allow himself to fall into her manipulative trap. Kitty Riley was not one to be trusted, that much he did know.

"You see that thing over there," Dirk pointed. Kitty turned round in her seat. "That's a door. Could you put it to good use and GET OUT?"

"Have I done something to offend Mr Gently?"

"No…it's just," He struggled. "Just go home please Miss Riley. You're wasting both our time sat here pouring out your nonsense."

Kitty studied him, her eyes scrunched up ever so slightly she watched as he pulled a face and turned around to see what she was focusing on. Despite his stupidity from time to time, Kitty knew he was smart.

"Mr Gently I _can _help you."

"Help me? I don't need _helping."_

"Please, you have to believe me." She persisted again. Dirk shook his head, once left, once right in a teasing manner before taking hold of Kitty's freshly poured cup of tea. Kitty stared at him in disbelief. "Mr Gently, I'm here to help you."

"NO." He snarled trying to sound all important. "You're here to help yourself." Dirk placed the cup to his lips and took a large sip of what previously had been Kitty's tea. He'd failed to realise how hot it still was and with much effort he gulped it down, eyes wide. Kitty tried to ignore his plain absurdity and proceeded. She unfolded her arms and placed her hands on the desk, raising from her seat she leaned as close as she could to Dirk. Dirk jumped somewhat and tilted back in his chair (his eyes even wider then before.)

"Do you often get that reaction from men Miss Riley?" He questioned bemused, gulping once again.

"I'm here to gain you publicity." She growled staring hard at him. When he stayed silent making no sign that he was going to say something she said. "I'm offering it to you."

"Offering?" His voice quivered, it was him who was starting to feel intimidated. The way she spoke was truly daunting, and Dirk, in a cavalier fashion glanced at his watch. Kitty, still hanging over him like a cloud possessing thunder sighed to break the awkward silence.

"PUBLICITY!" Kitty roared leaping backwards.

"I know!" Dirk stressed straightening his tie hoping he hadn't appeared to dim-witted. Kitty folded her arms and paced the room laughing (much as MacDuff had done earlier.)

"Have you seen this morning's paper?" She asked.

"Yes, and what of it." Dirk rolled his eyes, what was she? The female version of MacDuff? Though she was far from it. Kitty raised one eyebrow. "How do you solve your cases anyway?"

"The fundamental interconnectedness of all things, I rely on random chance methods to uncover connections between seemingly-unrelated cases" Dirk gave her a smirk, she was most surely impressed and she couldn't disguise it, even if it did sound completely ridiculous.

"You're a detective with overall bad publicity…sort of… and I'm a journalist." She waited for him to put two and two together. Dirk thought for a moment.

"You want me to take you on as my…what…publisher?" He snorted. Kitty's expression dropped and she reached for the newspaper which was still on the desk.

"Sherlock Holmes is one of the most intellectual detectives the world has ever seen. His name in the press may be _Boffin_ but it's ten times better then _Conman_. Wouldn't you agree?" Kitty grinned triumphantly- tossing Sherlock Holmes into the picture would most likely seal the deal. Dirk scratched his chin and leant on one hand.

"So you'll publish my cases?"

"And present you as a hero. Scam people all you want, I don't care. I'll shed light onto your work and they'll love you." She stopped, and then carried on with more. "Doctor Watson presents the world with Sherlock's cases through his blog. I'll present yours through the paper. Think about it, more people read papers than internet blogs. You could be a sensation." Her words were hurried but delivered flawlessly and confidently. She smiled at him and buttoned up her coat. Dirk shook his head however.

"I don't know if I can trust you Miss Riley, not yet anyway."

"Well think about it." She said. "I've left my number with your receptionist."

"I won't be requiring it I can assure you." He nodded.

"Don't sound so sure Mr Gently…" She opened the door. "…after all it is a chance to go into competition with Sherlock Holmes." And at that she shut the door and was out of sight.

Dirk waited, and the moment she left the building he flew out of his seat and rushed to the window, clambering over the mounts of ridiculous clutter that built up his agency. He crouched down on his knees and peered out the dirty, dusty window.

_DAMN IT _he thought as he watched her remove a set of keys from her bag and get into her car!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"What did you mean Sherlock, when you said that Kitty's problems weren't yours to solve?" John asked one morning. It'd been an entire week since Kitty's unexpected visit in the night and nor he or Sherlock had raised any questions or means of conversation on the matter since. However now, John sat reading the morning's paper, and spotting Miss Riley's name under the sub heading had forced him to seek an answer to his question.

Sherlock, who sat opposite him in his chair beside the fireplace, was just about to sip his cup of tea. Instead he stopped midway, blinked and shook his head, the cup lingering just beneath his lips.

"I wanted to scare her." He said eventually; there was a pause as he tasted his tea. "I don't want her hanging around us- she can't be trusted John." Sherlock continued, smiling warmly to his friend who in acknowledgment nodded once and returned his attention back to the morning's paper. Sherlock set down his tea.

"Anything interesting?" He questioned leaning forward in his seat as if to get a glimpse of whatever he may find lurking within its contents. John flicked over the page, sighing he turned it over again. Sherlock waited eagerly.

"No nothing." John replied, flicking through all the previous pages, he kept on flicking, his eyes scanning the inky headlines. "Oh…hang on, wait." He said. Opening up the newspaper wholly; John read the headline and smirked. "I'm not sure if you'll be interested in this though Sherlock." He admitted. Sherlock impatiently leant over further and snatched the paper from him his grasp. 'CONMAN DETECTIVE SOLVES NEW CASE'

"Well, well, well." He cracked a half smile and handed John back his newspaper.

"I'd rather be Bachelor John Watson then Conman Detective." John scowled as he took up the decision to read the article. "He's unbelievable this Gently." He outstretched the paper as if to prove his eyes weren't deceiving him. "Ha- have you read this Sherlock?" Scoffing he folded the newspaper back up and leant down to take his mug of tea which rested beside his feet. Sherlock nodded.

"I've read Gently's cases before, he lacks all sense when it comes to eliminating the impossible." Sherlock began; John listened intently with a particular keen interest. Was Gently at all competition for Holmes he wondered. Though of course, John new the solid answer to that. "I'm not wasting anymore time reading his investigations." He pursed his lips and leant into his chair. John decided to finish the article however and after some time he said.

"He solves them though."

At that Sherlock was sharp to respond. "Because he waits until everything around him falls fittingly into place. That's how he's able to gain his answers." At that, Sherlock resided into his 'thinking position' and placed his palms neatly together, his eyebrows arched slightly.

"Unlike you who jumps from the deep end on the word go and protest that everyone else is wrong." John sneered

"Your choice of words is deliberate"

"Am I not allowed to say 'jump' now?"

Sherlock chuckled and returned back to the conversation. "I have my methods John."

"Don't we all know that!" John's question clearly rhetorical. "Aren't you eating today?" John raised a brow noticing the absence of his friend's breakfast.

"No."

"Even you Sherlock have to admit though, that Gently _does _solve his cases. And by looking at this," John said casting a glance back down at the paper. This left room for a few seconds silence. "He solves them with some flare."

"Do _I _not solve my cases with flare John?" Sherlock snapped through his usual flow of sarcasm. John snorted; Sherlock's eyebrows collapsed into disapproval.

"I wonder if Gently would be interested in _Sherlock's guide on how to look cool for detective dummies_?"

"He would if it was part of an inter-connected web!" Sherlock intercepted before John could go on. John simply chuckled to himself.

…

Kitty quickly shut the door behind herself leaving little time to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she removed her coat, practically leaving it in a heap on the floor behind her as she proceeded hurriedly to the living room. The empty house had not greeted her welcomingly. Fumbling around for the light switch she kicked off her heels, pushed back the door and headed straight for the windows. Her eyes darted left to right, then right to left as she examined the street. The secluded echo of the mantle's clock ticked alongside her heartbeat. For those seconds she could only catch shadows. They danced around her eyes, taunting and teasing her preventing her anticipated concentration.

Kitty focused on the constant flicker of the street lamps, it was their orange glow which shone down against the pavements below; the only light that the night held within its possession. Somewhere in the distance a dog began to bark and grey clouds slowly but surely drifted their way across the sky, looming over London. Breathing heavily Kitty seized the curtains taking one final look, and then with force she yanked them shut. She turned to face the room before throwing her bag onto the sofa, then collapsing onto it in a heap. Her day had been relatively disappointing she'd concluded. Scratching her head she snuggled against the nearest pillow, laying her head onto the arm of the settee. Careful not to shut her eyes she allowed her thoughts to run away with her.

…

They just didn't understand. The words formed perfectly in her mouth, in her head, in her heart, but no matter how many times she approached the past…she found that no one would listen.

It was a constant battle that she'd been fighting, not only with herself, but with everyone around her. Knowing forever that she'd be branded as the journalist who'd slept with James Moriarty, the journalist who'd published Sherlock Holmes' life story and declared him a fraud was what (deep down) haunted her. The memories of Richard Brook hung over her like a possessive shadow, moving with her every step. The past refused to leave her side and it was starting to eat away at her.

They just didn't understand, nobody understood.

Kitty Riley wasn't to blame for the unfortunate events which had taken place. She knew that, it was just that nobody else would. Sherlock Holmes surely knew, though he wasn't easily forgiving. Whenever she ventured her thoughts back to that time in her life, she could see everything. She saw how everything had been spiralling into place so subtly and so perfectly for Moriarty. Blinded by the figure of Richard Brook, Kitty had believed. Kitty believed like she'd never believed before. The problem was that she hadn't believed in Sherlock Holmes until now. But now was too late. _Now_ wasn't going to solve anything. It was _now_ that she needed to do something about it. Though, what was she going to do about it? Sleepless nights of tossing and turning had resulted in her decision as to what she was going to do _now_.

James Moriarty had used her as his personal weapon. He had never loved her. She had been his method of retrieving Sherlock Holmes. A simple technique was all she had resembled to him. The key to Sherlock Holmes. A simple piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Kitty Riley had merely been a pawn in a game of fatal chess. And if James Moriarty had not died that day, who knew what the result would have been regarding Kitty Riley. Would Richard Brook still be a character of existence? What would have become of Kitty Riley? They were all questions that would never be fully answered, questions that ran through her mind, set upon a constant loop.

Kitty was chained to her past and all she wanted was for someone to accept her. Forgive her. See her actions not as a mistake. The list was endless and nobody would accept her. She herself accepted that at least. She accepted that yes, her actions had been a mistake. Though it was only looking back at the past which made her feel that way. At the time she didn't know she was making any mistakes. Sherlock Holmes was a fake, a fraud and Richard Brook an innocent victim of Holmes' scandalous propositions. The world needed to know, Richard Brook needed to be free of James Moriarty, Kitty had finally felt love and she'd finally snatched her 'big scoop.' In the end it had boiled down to Brook's word over Holmes' and Kitty had refused to back down. Besides, she'd had proof. It was only now that Kitty regretted everything. Now that she knew the truth behind James Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes.

However, forgiveness was the least of her worries; already she had consulted two detectives. One decision was a plain outright _no _and the other currently pending. Sherlock Holmes had made himself perfectly clear. He wanted nothing to do with her.

Dirk Gently had yet to make up his mind. Dirk was a man who had nothing to do with the case of Richard Brook and this appeared to be one turning point for Kitty Riley. A man who had not been scarred by her actions could prove to be her only sanctuary.

…

It was the sound of the phone which startled her. Raising her head from the pillow and glancing in the general direction of the noise, Kitty's previous thoughts had been abolished; her attention rested with the phone. Swinging her legs round she rose from the settee and wandered towards it. The caller was unknown then for a split second Kitty found herself staring at the window as her hand lingered over the phone. Carefully she picked it up and with her thumb, clicked the little green button. She drew a breath.

"Hello?"

"Miss Riley, Dirk Gently here, sorry to call you at such a ludicrous time of night but I'd like to take you up on that offer." The sound of Dirk Gently's voice eased her stomach and she sighed a sigh of pure relief.

"Mr Gently!" She smiled placing a hand to her stomach. "That is wonderful news. I promise I wont let you down."


End file.
